


Ain't No Sunshine

by rocketpool



Series: Charcoal Shouldn't Look So Good On You [3]
Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, because sometimes you hurt your characters, cross-posted from LJ, references past emotional abuse, yep there's sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-04
Updated: 2010-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketpool/pseuds/rocketpool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ewan's father has a few choice words, and Matt gives him what's for. Except when he turns around, Ewan is gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't No Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://raggedy-edge.livejournal.com/profile)[**raggedy_edge**](http://raggedy-edge.livejournal.com/), who lost her regular bids at [](http://help-haiti.livejournal.com/profile)[**help_haiti**](http://help-haiti.livejournal.com/), and whom I told if she still donated, I'd write for her. The bid was for a 750 word minimum... it kind of exploded...
> 
> Contains references to childhood emotional abuse. There is angst, but the comfort probably makes up for it.

 

  
The words sink low in Matt's stomach, a war of hot and cold, seething rage and hurt and emotions that he hasn't ever had to put a name to so personally. So _intimately_. He can feel Ewan's heart breaking, even without looking to see the way he's frozen, face pale, eyes already unfocused as though he's already trying to be anywhere but here. To be smaller. Invisible. Matt can't even begin to imagine what hearing those words is like, not from his own father. Hearing them at all, hearing that derision, that apathy, when it isn't even directed at him is enough.

He glances over, trying to think of what to say. But Ewan looks away, makes _that face_ and suddenly the pieces fall into place -- why Ewan is always surprised when he or Lee do something for him, when they frame words around this fragile relationship, why Ewan thinks he isn't worth it.

Matt’s arm is moving before he thinks about it, years of training funneling into muscle memory, into the delicate precision of force and muscle and bone. His fist makes a solid connection with McGregor's face, sending him stumbling and sputtering in surprise and pain, and the old man only barely catches himself against the table. He starts to snarl, to raise his voice, but Matt just raises his finger, his stance enough to shut the bastard up.

"If I ever, _ever_ hear you speak to him like that again, if I so much as think that you _might_ have," Matt growls, "so help me god..." He lets the threat hang, waiting until McGregor swallows hard and shrinks away from his glare to finally turn away. Ewan isn’t there. Matt almost falters, but he won’t give McGregor the satisfaction, won’t give him more ammunition, so he just stalks out and lets the door slam behind him.

But Ewan isn’t in the hallway either.

Matt’s stomach drops, worry tightening his chest. He tries to listen but he hears nothing, then jogs down the opposite way to see if there’s any sign of him. His footsteps sound loud in all the silence, and he knows Ewan isn’t up here. He turns on his heel and all but runs, skipping the elevator in favor of the stairs. It hasn’t been that long, so maybe he can catch up, maybe he can find him.

“Please still be here,” Matt murmurs to himself as he bursts into the lobby. “Please, please…” He spins in place, out of breath and starting to panic because there’s no sign of him. He watches the elevators for a moment, but he knows it’s been long enough that Ewan would be here, or he would be gone. “No…”

There’s barely any hesitation in his step as he races outside, where he knows there’s barely any hope of seeing Ewan even if he were out there. He takes a few steps one way, then the other, standing on his toes and trying to see through the bustle of pedestrians. Nothing but people paying him no mind. Nothing but taxis, loading and unloading people and pulling away.

“Ewan!” he calls, and he doesn’t care about the looks he’s getting, he doesn’t. “Ewan!”

Matt scrubs a hand over his face and spins in place again before pulling out his cell. He’s never been so thankful for speed dial. Of course, it goes straight to Ewan’s voice mail. “Ewan, it’s Matt. Call me back, ok?” He has to remind himself to breathe as he jogs to the parking garage and gets his car, worry sending cold tendrils of fear down his back. Ewan’s car is still in the spot beside his. He’d peel out if he could, but traffic’s too thick, and he aims towards Ewan’s place, knuckles white on the steering wheel in an effort to keep from calling Ewan again already.

He holds off until he’s halfway there at least. “Ewan… please call me back. I’m headed to your place… I’m worried, ok? Please…” He tries twice more before getting there but doesn’t leave messages. All he can think of are those words, how deeply they cut, and he starts to wonder what else McGregor might have said to his son. What he might have _done_. It makes him sick to his stomach but he doesn’t slow down when he finally gets there.

Matt knocks on the door, trying not to pound it down, but there’s no answer. He tries again and still nothing. “Ewan please,” he says, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe Ewan’s inside and listening. Resting his head against the cool wood, he tries to pull his thoughts together. Tries to focus. But all he can see is the look on Ewan’s face…

Sliding down, he tucks himself against the door and pulls his phone out again. Matt stares at it for a moment, his eyes stinging, and finds himself doing what he should have from the start —get Lee. His throat has closed, so he texts instead of calls. _Can’t find Ewan. At his apt. Don’t know what to do._

It’s a long few minutes before his phone chirps at him with a message. _On my way._

Matt closes his eyes and tries to breathe. Tries not to worry, to wonder. Tries just to wait. But he can’t, not when he doesn’t know what Ewan’s thinking, doesn’t know that he’s ok.

The next call goes straight to voicemail too.

“Ewan… I…” Matt doesn’t know what to say, where to start. “Please come home. I don’t… I don’t know what your father did, only what he said. I know he hurt you and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t think, before I hit him. I don’t know if he ever…” He swallows, closing his eyes against the thought, his words starting to trip over each other with the desperate hope that Ewan will hear them all. “I don’t know if he ever hit you, and you have to know I would never hurt you. You know that, right? Not you or Lee. I just couldn’t let him talk to you like that. I couldn’t let him hurt you anymore and…Ewan, please just come home…”

The phone beeps in his ear, cutting off the message. He bites his lip and pulls his knees up to his chest. All he has now is to wait…

~

Lee isn’t sure what to expect as he takes the last few stairs in one step and jogs down the hall, but when he rounds the corner, it certainly isn’t to find Matt huddled in the alcove for Ewan’s door, his knees tucked under his chin, face pale. His heart skips when Matt doesn’t look up, doesn’t seem to even know Lee’s there until his fingers brush against his temple. And when he does, his eyes are bloodshot, blue faded to a soft gray twisted through with worry.

And as soon as Lee kneels beside him, Matt leans into him — _clings_ to him for Christ’s sake— so Lee doesn’t even know what to do with himself. Matt is the strong one, the responsible one, the reserved one. “What happened?” he says and wraps his arms around Matt, mind already spinning with worst case scenarios and fears. He tries not to hold his breath, because he doesn’t know what could possibly do this.

There’s a long moment of silence, but Lee can feel him swallowing, can feel his mouth moving as he tries to find his voice. “I…” Matt starts, but his voice cracks and he licks his lips before trying again. “I hit his father.”

Lee blinks, scenarios rearranging themselves in his head like script revisions or hasty last minute costume design changes. “What? Why…?”

“He…” Matt’s hands tighten their grip and he shakes his head. “The things he said… Lee, he…” He shakes his head again and Lee can feel the tears through his shirt. His voice is nothing but a broken whisper now, laced with guilt. “You should have seen Ewan’s face. He couldn’t even look at me, Lee. He looked so lost, and I just… I couldn’t let the bastard keep talking to him like that. And when I turned around… He was just. Gone. Left his car in the garage. He won’t answer his phone, won’t answer the door. I don’t even know if he’s even _here_. And what if… what if he thinks…”

Matt can’t finish the sentence but he doesn’t need to, not right now. For a moment Lee just pulls him closer and kisses his temple. He leans back and brushes his thumbs across Matt’s cheeks, wiping away his tears. “It’ll be okay,” he promises. “But first things first. We need to make sure he isn’t here.”

Matt nods vaguely and then blinks a little. “But… if he isn’t answering, how…?”

Lee smiles, even if it’s a little weak, and winks at him. It isn’t much, he knows, but it’s enough to steady Matt a little. He reaches into his pockets and pulls out a few odds and ends, and then fetches the one bit he needs from his seam pocket. It’s not optimal, perhaps. But then, he’s managed with worse. He pushes himself up and goes to the door, starting to poke at the lock.

“You’re not…” Matt huffs a little, perhaps some semblance of an incredulous laugh, and starts to get up. “You carry that stuff with you?”

“A few years ago this idiot kept locking me out of the theater, and, y’know, my office, so I got a little… creative.” He has to grin when the lock clicks, though it doesn’t last much longer than getting the door open.

It’s quiet now, but Ewan’s obviously been there. The books and papers and chess pieces from the coffee table are scattered across the floor as though he shoved everything off in a single swipe. The shelf of photos on the mantle are tipped over, face down, except for one. The large framed one of Ewan and his father is on the floor by the wall, the frame in pieces and its glass shattered around it with the remains of what had been a bottle of beer.

Lee checks the bedroom and the bathroom quickly, just to be sure, just to know that Ewan was definitely gone. He comes back out to find Matt sitting at the dining table, Ewan’s jacket in his lap. He looks pale again, shoulders hunched and worrying at his lip as he turns something over and over in his hands.

“It’s his phone,” he says, voice dust with worry and exhaustion. He tosses it onto the counter and rubs a hand over his face. “Battery’s dead. Probably was before. So chances are good he doesn’t even know I tried to call.” Matt’s face tightens. “Where would he go?”

“We’ll find him,” Lee says, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. Matt nods, but he doesn’t look up. Lee sighs, tries to think. Matt’s in no shape to help him look, not really, but just sitting on his hands would mean turning all that guilt in on himself; Lee can’t just go looking for Ewan knowing it’s only hurting him more. “Ok… Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ll go out and look for him, make a few calls. You clean up the glass, and then head back to your place in case he ends up over there. Since he doesn’t have his phone, you wanna be where he can find you.” Matt nods again without looking up, so Lee cups his face, leaning down to brush their lips together. “It’ll be okay.”

“There’s a front moving in. You should…” His words trail off but Matt looks up at Lee, eyes begging him to be right, and he presses Ewan’s coat into his hands.

Lee takes it and just kisses him again, hopefully with more comfort than any words he can muster right now. He steps away, heading out, already pulling his phone out, even though he debates who to call first. He’s nearly flying down the steps with long strides by the time Mike picks up at _Rue Morgue_.

“Hey, Lee, wasabi?” Lee can hear glasses and bottles clinking in the background, and the thump and pound of music.

“Have you seen Ewan at all? It’s kind of important.” He’s almost to the lobby now, dizzy from trying to hold his breath. From hoping it’d be that simple.

“No man, sorry. If I see’m though…”

“Yeah thanks.” Lee hangs up without waiting for Mike to respond. He tries Gray next, and then Andrew, and even Jensen, all with the same result. “Fucking dammit.” He slides into the driver’s seat and drums his hands on the wheel. It’s already stormy gray outside; the wind’s just starting to pick up in earnest. Lee tries to wrap his brain around what Ewan could possibly be thinking… “You’re not thinking, are you.” He bites his thumb, considering. “You’d go somewhere you feel comfortable. Somewhere you felt safe…”

The list is short, thank god, but it’s not like they’re anywhere near each other. It takes everything he’s got not to get himself a speeding ticket. The botanical garden is the least likely, but it’s also the closest. Not to mention a bust — they’ve already closed for the weather. _Poetic_ hasn’t even opened yet. Lee disregards the next two in the list, not if Ewan hasn’t taken his car. There’s the possibility he could have called a cab, but Lee can’t take that risk, not yet. Not with big fat rain drops starting to spatter against the windshield.

It feels like it takes forever to get to the industrial art esplanade, with the way the traffic clogs up and the rain slowly grows more steady. But he watches the clock, and reminds himself not to get dramatic. By the time he gets there, the sky is nearly black, swallowed by evening as much as the storm, and it’s colder here on the waterfront.

He stares into the maze of stylized metal, twisted and arcing towers, blue and green lights always glowing in the darkness. “Course you don’t pick anyplace easy…”

~

Ewan doesn’t register the cold, even though he’s shivering. Even though the metal and plexiglass cubby he’s huddling in is freezing, the blue light ribbed on the edges casting everything in a queer sort of light. It makes everything surreal, like some kind of nightmare he can’t shake himself out of. He rests his head against the metal, closing his eyes against the roiling speed of the storm clouds overhead, trying not to feel so lightheaded. To feel like the world is still tip, tip, spinning sideways.

He tries just to breathe, but he can’t seem to catch his breath, the shame in his cheeks still burning. Ewan would have been happy for Matt and Lee never to have met his father. They like him ( _liked him?_ ) just fine the way he is. The three of them, they were happy, weren’t they? With never having known what kind of fuck up he used to be ( _that he still is, isn’t he?_ ).

And now… he can’t imagine what Matt must think of him now. Matt had turned to him while his father spoke, but Ewan had looked away, too afraid to see shock and hurt, or worse, the same judgment in his eyes. He can still hear his father’s words in his head, crowding everything else out and taking him straight back to his youth. To disappointment so thick even his mother, his dear sweet beloved mother, had to look away.

He pulls his knees to his chest when the first drops of rain fall, shrinking back from the opening.

His mum had always done her best though, hadn’t she? Had always tried to encourage him. She would have liked Lee and Matt. Would have told him not to hide. That they were worth too much to him not to at least face them. He takes a shaky breath, and then another, trying to remember what she sounded like when she told him not to give in ( _it’s been so long…_ ), and reaches for his phone.

Except it isn’t in his back pocket. Or the other. And his jacket… Well, he hasn’t got it with him, has he? And his clothes are half soaked through now, slick and clinging and cold.

“Fuck,” he says, but he can’t help but think that maybe this is karma. Matt and Lee are more than he could possibly deserve, and they’d have each other, wouldn’t they? “Maybe it’s a bloody sign.” His chest tightens at the thought, a knot twisting so much he can’t breathe and the world tilts again. He should have known better than to think he could have this, that he could have them. He should have known…

“Ewan!” The voice is almost lost to the wind, and Ewan closes his eyes against that too, squeezing them tight and ignoring the warmth that mingles with the spray on his face. But he can’t shut it out, he can’t, not even when it seems like it’s going hoarse from screaming.

And then it’s right next to him. He has to open his eyes, if only to prove to himself that he’s imagining it. But when he does, Lee’s there. Really, actually there, looking worried as hell and drenched through, solid even through the static of the blue light and the rain. He doesn’t dare to breathe, or blink, just in case.

“Are you ok?” Lee asks, waiting a moment for an answer and when Ewan just swallows says, “or hurt?” Another long moment passes, and Ewan blinks. Lee’s still there, really, actually there. “Jesus, Ewan, would you say something?”

“What are you… How did you even…?”

Lee’s eyes widen a little, sparking for a moment with rage before concern takes its place, and he closes what’s left of the distance between them. His fingers dig into Ewan’s shoulders and he’s as close as he can be without climbing into the cubby with him. “You really thought we wouldn’t look for you?” Lee studies his face for a moment, eyes holding his, and he moves to cup his face. “Always. We will always… Christ, no wonder Matt hit him. Anyone that could…”

Ewan blinked, not quite processing. Matt… had… what? But Lee’s pulling away, pulling Ewan with him out of the cubby, away from the metal and into the open rain. But he doesn’t let go, doesn’t look away, eyes the color of the storm under the electric blue glare of the lights as he wraps his arms around Ewan and ignores the rain. Ewan shivers, and he can’t tell if it’s from the cold and the wet and the wind, or something else, something more. He just buries his face against Lee’s neck, daring to cling to his warmth.

“C’mon,” Lee whispers in his ear, taking him by the hand and kissing his temple, “let’s go home.”

They head back in silence, though Lee keeps glancing over at him, like he wants to make sure he’s still there. That Ewan’s still ok. He shoots off a text to Matt before getting into the car, and laces their fingers together as they drive, his thumb sliding along the side of Ewan’s hand, his grip tightening every now and then reassuringly. Ewan can’t help but look at them, at the way their hands fit together, almost mismatched and yet he can’t help but feel comforted by it. Can’t help but feel safe.

When they park, Lee lifts his hand up, kissing Ewan’s knuckles. Ewan almost manages to smile for him, but not quite. He waits. For the thunder to crack and wake him up. For the other shoe to drop. For—

“Hey,” Lee says, squeezing his hand again. He gets out and jogs around the car, opens the door. “C’mon.” Ewan just looks up at him. The rain is more like mist now, the exterior lights off the building look soft and yellow, make Lee’s face look warm. There’s something about the way his eyes shine, even in the shadows, not like before. Not like anything he’s seen before. “C’mon. It’s warmer inside.”

It’s not til halfway up the stairs, fingers trailing along the handrail, that it occurs to him they’re going to Lee’s apartment. He’s kind of glad, really. He’s not particularly keen on having to face the mess he’s left behind ( _having to look at that picture again, having to frame it_ ). Ewan toys with the thought of curling up on Lee’s couch and not getting up for a week.

Lee lets them in, lets Ewan in ahead of him. Ewan supposes he shouldn’t be surprised to see that Matt’s already there, that he looks half out of his head with worry, eyes wide and bloodshot when he turns to see him standing there. But he is. He might feel guilty about it if not for the way that Matt nearly tackles him for how quickly he crosses the room.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says, the words coming out as a rush, and whatever else Ewan might have expected, it wasn’t this. “I’m so, so sorry. He shouldn’t have said those things to you. _No one_ should say … Jesus. I just, I got so mad, Ewan. I couldn’t let him keep going. I shouldn’t have hit him, I didn’t think—”

Ewan blinks. “You… you hit my father?”

Matt bites his lip and pulls back a little. “Yeah… I…” He looks up, uncertainty painted across his face. “You… you didn’t know?”

“No,” Ewan says, his voice barely above a whisper. He huffs out a soft laugh just imagining the look on his father’s face. “And you thought I’d be mad?”

“When I turned around you were gone…” Matt shakes his head, cupping Ewan’s face and stepping closer. “Never do that again, not ever.” Ewan barely has time to nod before Matt kisses him, a brush of the lips that he deepens slowly.

“C’mon you two,” Lee says, hooking a finger in each of their belt loops and pulling them deeper into the apartment. “Some of us are going to catch our death if we don’t get out of these clothes.”

“I like this plan,” Matt says. He hasn’t quite let go of Ewan as they follow after, looking at him as though he wants to keep kissing him but settling for starting to pull at Ewan’s clothes as they walk. “It’s a good plan.”

They get as far as the bedroom door before Matt decides to press him against the door frame and start at his buttons properly. He trails his lips along Ewan’s jaw and nuzzles his throat before chasing his fingers with kisses, almost as though to reclaim each bit of skin he reveals. Ewan wants to touch him, to tangle his hands in Matt’s hair, to pull at his tie. But he’s transfixed just watching him sliding slowly lower. Lee hums in approval, and Ewan can feel Matt smile against his skin.

Ewan looks over at Lee in time to see him toss his boots aside, his pants hanging loose around his waist, belt and button undone. He’s already taken off his jacket and shirt, his skin glistening with what’s soaked through from the rain. He catches Ewan’s eye and closes the distance between them slowly, his expression intent. Ewan all but holds his breath, with Matt’s tongue tracing his ribs, his hands tracing along Ewan’s belt, and Lee kissing him slowly, slowly, one hand carding through Ewan’s hair as he pushes shirt and jacket together off Ewan’s shoulders.

For a bit Ewan doesn’t think about it. It’s warm and familiar and more than welcome, soft touches and lingering kisses, their clothing slowly falling away. He can’t help it when that little voice in the back of his head, the one that sounds like his father, starts whispering. Can’t help but think that he isn’t worth this, worth them.

“Shhh,” Matt murmurs, rising to nuzzle his neck, his fingers rubbing gentle circles in Ewan’s back. “He isn’t here. He doesn’t matter.”

“And we’re not going anywhere,” Lee says. He kisses Ewan’s temple, lets his hand glide lower and curl around Ewan’s cock even as he traces the lines of Ewan’s face with his lips. Ewan whimpers, raises his hips to push into Lee’s hand. He moves to stroke them both, but Matt chooses that moment to cup his butt and slip an easy fingers between his cheeks, teasing him. Ewan only manages to try to steady himself by clinging to them, a moan bubbling up out of him that he can’t hold back.

“I love that sound,” Lee says into his skin.

“Definitely one of my favorites,” Matt says. He presses his finger into Ewan, not far but just enough, and Ewan bucks, gasping. “That too.”

“Please,” Ewan manages. He swallows, words evading him as Lee twists his wrist, but he wants more.

Lee seems to understand and starts maneuvering them toward the bed, still stroking Ewan, until at last they collapse into the sheets. They’re a tangle of limbs, pressing and writhing, trying to find the middle of the bed and the right position at the same time. Lee reaches across both of them, pinning Ewan between them as he kisses Matt and roots around blindly. Ewan rolls his hips, earning him a groan from the other two as he grinds against each of them in turn.

Matt responds in kind, turning the three of them to the side so that he’s spooned against Ewan’s back, his cock pressed tight against him and every rocking motion of their bodies rubbing Ewan and Lee’s together. Ewan hears a cap pop open —Lee must have been reaching for lube— and he doesn’t wait for someone to nudge his legs open.

“Christ,” someone says. Matt, Ewan thinks, but Lee’s fingers are already slipping inside, cool and slick. He closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against Lee’s shoulder, and just tries to breathe. It’s no easy feat, not with the way Matt twists one of his nipples, his breath hot on Ewan’s neck. Not with the way he can taste the rain on Lee’s skin, already mingling with sweat, and he can’t help but trace his tongue along the tattoo on Lee’s throat. Lee’s fingers scissor, brushing against just the right spot until he has Ewan bucking, until he’s panting, and then they’re gone, replaced with the familiar press of Matt’s cock.

Ewan can feel Lee slicking Matt, lets him lift Ewan’s leg just a little more and _lean_ until Matt is pushing inside. Lee kisses Ewan, his tongue parting his lips as he swallows Ewan’s moans. Each movement is like a ripple between them, echoing back and forth through Ewan. He loses track of who touches who, lost in the fact that they’re always touching him. That even when they touch each other, they touch him.

That they couldn’t not touch him if they tried, and trying doesn’t cross their minds.

Matt finds the sweet spot and starts thrusting in earnest, hand sliding down to curl around Lee and Ewan both. Ewan whimpers, his toes already curling, only able to hold on as Lee lifts his leg just so, shifting their position and holding them together. Ewan’s vision whites out, his orgasm startling up out of him. He feels the warmth of it across his belly, the heat still in his veins when Lee follows after him, adding heat to heat. Matt thrusts once, twice more before he joins them, filling Ewan and whispering something in his ear, to both of them really, that Ewan can’t quite comprehend right now.

For a time they lay there just breathing, a tangle of limbs and heartbeats. Eventually someone will need to get up, they’ll need to clean off. But for the moment, Ewan’s content to be just where he is.

~

Matt takes a long, slow, deep breath and resists the urge to doze, if barely. He doesn’t understand why he and Ewan are curled up under the baby grand with little more than their pajama pants and a pillow for Matt to rest his head on. But Ewan’s curled against him, as pleased and relaxed as a cat, his head laying on Matt’s chest like he’s listening to his heartbeat. Lee plays softly above them; if Matt turned his head he’d be able to see Lee’s bare feet working the pedals as he hums to himself.

The light is soft through the blinds, a muted, golden dawn. He wonders vaguely if somewhere there’s a rainbow drifting through the sky outside. Not that he has any plans of finding out, or moving much at all. He lets his fingers glide through Ewan’s hair, comfortable and easy. Maybe dozing off isn’t such a bad idea after all.  



End file.
